


Flip

by Attasee



Series: The Mattress Chronicles [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV Derek Hale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-01-09
Packaged: 2018-05-12 19:11:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5677330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attasee/pseuds/Attasee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The owner of Top and Tail Mattress's gets his groove on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flip

**Author's Note:**

> This has taken longer than I expected it too. Combination of work, the muse going awol and a broken ankle. When I actually sat down and wrote it, it ended up being nothing like I planned and for some reason was Derek's PoV.
> 
> The next part Stiles is up again.

At eight o’clock precisely Derek hears the rumble of the delivery van he’d seen parked outside The Mattress Sheriff earlier that day. Pushing the vertical blinds that hang in his office to one side with his index finger, he watches as the delivery boy – or as Derek now knows him to be called - Stiles Stilinski, cautiously open the van door and place a foot onto the gravel of the driveway.

“Sir,” a voice says and Derek recognizes the cautious tone used a mile off. “Are you absolutely sure about this?”

Derek sighs and nods his head in his secretary’s direction. He knows that Isaac means well, he has been his secretary – almost like a brother even – for as long as he can remember… but still…  “Absolutely, he…” Derek replies, turning back towards the window, “he intrigues me.”

“But he seems so young.”

“He’s twenty one according to my sources.”

“That’s…”

“…Old enough?” Derek answers and he pushes the blind aside once more. Stiles is now cautiously scanning the courtyard and pursing his lips together in a look of wonder.

Is he impressed?

Derek wants him to be.

The house is new, modern and airy and looks nothing like the burnt building that had stood here only eighteen months ago. In fact Derek can’t help but wonder if Stiles even knew this house and land existed before today. Most people didn’t, as it is tucked away in a corner of Beacon Hills that his sources informed him hardly any one ventures into.

Not that that matters now. Now Derek's only concern is how on earth he is going to get the nervous stock boy, whose hands are currently stuffed tightly into skinny black jeans to his bedroom.

Or as close to it as possible as he can.

Dropping the blind Derek steadies it with a single finger so it doesn’t move.

“Sir, shall we let him in?”

Derek nods at Isaac. “Yes. He may require help – I told him to come alone.”

“As you wish.”

Moments later Derek hears the steel entrance door swing open and Isaac step outside onto the gravel courtyard.

 _“Mr Stilinski…”_ Derek hears Isaac say no doubt making the boy jump a little. _“Would you like to follow me?”_

Stepping back but leaving one ear peeled, Derek runs his hands around the collar of his suit jacket then adjusts the cuff one by one.

 _“Holy shit,”_ he hears Stiles say – the tone used brings a smirk to Derek’s face, _“_ _Suit guy lives here?”_ A low whistle follows the question.

_“Mr Hale?”_

_“Yeah, that’s him. Holy shit_ _…_ _how many mattresses you need to sell to afford this?”_

 _“Mr Hale is very successful.”_ Good old Isaac.

_“You don’t say? Might not be a good idea to mention this to my dad though. He’ll wonder where he is going wrong.”_

Derek listens to the conversation a while longer before he decides to step in. Isaac may well be an excellent secretary but his patience will only last for so long under the barrage of questions Stiles is throwing in his direction.

_“So Dude, you’re like his butler?”_

On hearing that question Derek walks into the lobby area of the house, his shoes clicking lightly on the wooden floor.

“Good evening Stiles,” Derek says as he nods relieving Isaac of ‘Stiles’ duty. “You found us then?”

Stiles is still wearing the black Vans from earlier and the Mattress Sheriff polo shirt Derek notes. He casts his eyes over the garments, his eyes falling on the skinny jeans - the only item of clothing Stiles has changed.

“Have you only just finished work?” Derek asks, slipping his hands casually into the tailored trouser pockets of his suit.

“Yeah, ten – seven shift. Plus I had to load the van.”

“And you found me okay?” Derek asks.

Stiles nods. “Apparently, I’m here aren’t I? Although how you expect me to lug that thing in here alone is beyond me.”

A small chuckle leaves Derek lips, which he almost bites back. “I wouldn’t worry about that, Isaac and Peter my gardener will see to it.”

“Oh.”

“You didn’t expect to lift it alone did you?”

Stiles nods a cautious looking yes. “I was gonna ask Scott, but you said-.”

Derek cuts him off. “-I said come alone.”

“Right.”

“Right… Did you father give you any more hassle after I left?” Derek inquires, quickly changing the subject. There had been a kafuffle at the till when Derek had attempted to pay for the Henley Firm Tone. Who knew spending over five thousand dollars in one go would cause so much trouble? In hindsight Derek probably should never have asked that Stiles be paid more than the usual 10% commission for going above and beyond the call of mattress duty , but by then... it was too late.

“Nah… not really, he was okay. Thanks for that too, the commission thing? Scott’s royally pissed.” 

Derek dips his head and smirks to himself, casting a quick glance over the boy. He can see that Stiles is nervous, not sure why he is here. He’s fidgety and can’t stay still. Derek watches him flick his fingers, scratch his cheek, bite his lip _(sweet Jesus)_ and generally look like he is on the edge of flailing.

“You want to do this then?” Stiles asks suddenly in the middle of another lip bite. “Sort out the bed I mean?”

Derek knows they should do, but truthfully he has other plans for tonight. Did the naïve boy really think he hadn’t sorted out his own sleeping arrangements? He was the biggest mattress and bed retailer on the east coast for crying out loud - his internet sales _alone_ paid for the upkeep of a small island just off the Keys, so he could sure as hell handle dropping 5k on a top of the range bed.

“Would you prefer a tour of the house first? Offer an opinion on it?” Derek says as an image of Stiles standing by a pool wearing a pair of tight Speedos pops gracefully into his brain. _Yeah he would suit the Keys no doubt._

He hears Stiles tut quietly. “It’s better than what was here before.”

Arh. So he did know. “Before?”

“Yeah, before. It burnt down my dad said years ago. Killed the family that lived here.”

Derek nods at this. He’s heard the story, read a few of the articles online. A whole family wiped out by suspected arson. It was a shame; however…“You knew them?”

Stiles waves his hand dismissing the question, “nah, well before my time, but apparently they where a strange lot, worshiped the moon and all that.”

Derek nods, he'd heard the same but his attention is drawn back to a now nervous looking Stiles. The wave of the hand has turned a little shaky - gone is the boy who had strode out of the office earlier and accompanied Derek on his reconnoiter of the bed shop.

Derek knows he needs to calm Stiles down a little.

Just make him relax…

Derek takes a step forward, holding his arm out – not so Stiles can grab it – no – but to guide him away from the open door and further into his home.

“Give your keys to Isaac, he can sort the bed out,” he suggests. Derek then shoots a quick nod across to his secretary who has been stood patiently in the corner of the atrium.

For a moment Stiles looks a little confused. He stares at the outstretched arm then turns to face Isaac. “Are you sure?” he asks.

Isaac nods in confirmation.

Handing the keys over Derek watches Stiles stuff his hands back into the skinny jeans and move carefully towards the door straight in front of them.

“This isn’t gonna be some creepy movie is it? Cabin in the Woods shit?”

Derek chuckles and shakes his head. “No, no Cabin in the Woods shit.” Though to be honest? It’s a fair enough question to ask. Derek has asked Stiles to attend his house alone with no assistance, yet rather than turn him down flat Stiles has turned up sporting the tightest jeans and looking even more intriguing than he had earlier.

In fact those jeans…? Derek suddenly has to hold himself back from palming the curl of the boy’s ass as he makes his way through the door way and into the open plan kitchen, diner and den area of the house.

“Holy shit!”

Derek stands back and watches Stiles move carefully around the kitchen. Most of the nervous tension Stiles is - was - carrying is ebbing away as he gracefully moves his body from one section to the next. He runs his fingers over the marble kitchen work surfaces, touching the stainless steel utensils as he does so. Those long fingers touch the bar stools and the thick oak dining table. They bounce, squeeze and push the material surface of the sofa and winged back chairs.

“Holy shit,” Stiles repeats. “This is gorgeous.”

For a brief moment Derek simply stands and observes. He notes the look on Stiles face as he finally notices the floor to ceiling windows and the view over the preserve the house backs onto.

“Treble Holy shit!”

“You like?” Derek asks quietly. Finally he begins the move towards Stiles. Waiting until the boy has stopped fidgeting seems to the right time to make his way across the room. When he reaches him, Derek stops inches from his back bone.

“Yeah…” Stiles answers, there is a hitch in his voice as he does so.

“I pretty much saw the view for the first time and decided it was mine.” _Like most things._  

“Yeah?”

“Yes.” Derek hears the nerves and hesitancy in Stiles voice – the same as before at The Mattress Sheriff. “It’s the way I do business.”

Derek is now even closer to Stiles (if he could be), his body heat, nerves and tension penetrating through to Derek’s designer suit.

“Are you okay Stiles?” Derek asks with a hushed tone and smiles when he hears the hitch in Stiles breathing once more.

“I’m good Sir,” Stiles replies.

This time there is a hitch in Derek’s breathing. Sir? Really? Part of him likes the sound of hearing the younger man say it. The other, the part where he can’t believe a simple word affects him in such a manner, he pushes down.

“You sure?”

Stiles nods. Peering over his shoulder Derek can see his hands are now clasping tightly onto the edge of the low window sill. Knuckles white with the force of pressure.

“I’m sure.”

Stiles’ head is now bent slightly forward as if he is looking not out the window but towards the floor. The whole position of his head is now giving Derek a clear uninterrupted view of the pale creamy skin of his neck. He wants to bite it, lick it, and run his teeth up the long expanse of flesh more than he has ever wanted to do anything before.

“Mr. Hale?”

“Hmmm?” Derek answers but isn’t really paying attention. The _‘Mr. Hale’_ has him distracted slightly.

“What are you doing?”

Derek doesn’t answer. Not straight away. The urge to touch Stiles is too over whelming. “I’m just…” he begins to reply, but Derek doesn’t finish the sentence though – instead Stiles cuts him off.

“Just do it… just…”

For a split second Derek backs off, taken aback by what Stiles is suddenly offering.

“Just do it. I want…fuck... I've wanted it...” Stiles’ words briefly hang heavy in Derek’s ears. In the end though it’s too much, Derek hadn’t planned it like this, he planned slow, seduction over a few days... no hours. He wanted to take the boy to his bedroom, lay him down, strip him bare. Being offered it up like this? This is too much.

“Come on man…”

The impatience in Stiles’ voice is overwhelming and Derek holds on as long as he can. In the end though it’s too much.

The first contact between then sends a bolt of electricity up Derek’s chest. It’s only a small tender kiss to the pale flesh of Stiles' neck but it’s enough for Derek to open his lips more and run the tip of his tongue across more of the exposed area.

“Holy shit,” he hears Stiles say but Derek ignores the curse. Instead he turns his attention to placing open mouth kisses and nibbling the skin under Stiles’ ear lobe. “That’s….how do you...?”

Without answering Derek, pushes the collar of the Mattress King t-shirt down and seals his mouth over the juncture where Stiles neck meets his shoulder. His lips work gently at first, teasing and sucking the pale flesh until he knows a small red mark will appear.

“That’s gonna mark… do it again.” Stiles says with a heavy pant. 

Not one to say no Derek marks Stiles again, this time a little harder so the red mark is more pronounced. The blood blisters the surface.

“Oh god. I didn’t… I never thought…” It practically brings Derek to his knees to hear the boy babbling. It isn’t enough though.

The thin material of Stiles shirt is easy to push up and under his arms and Derek’s hands go to work straight away plucking and twisting at the two small nipples that are now firm to touch. His mouth still is working Stiles neck but Derek’s focus is on running his hand over the firm stomach and towards the waist band of those skinny jeans.

“Oh shit… here? You want to go at it here?”

No, Derek hadn’t wanted to do it here but he can’t help himself.

The buttons are easy. They ping open with a simple flick of Derek’s hand.

“Yeah…”

Stiles’ cock is hot and heavy to touch and Derek finds the tip of it wet with pre-cum. Wrapping his fingers around it he grips the solid body part firmly giving it a sharp tug.

“Oh fucking hell…”

On the next drag upwards he pushes his nail into the slit.

“You fucking bast-.”

Derek’s cuts Stiles' curse off by twisting the younger man’s head around to meet his mouth with his free hand. His tongue pushes in hard and fierce stifling the groan from Stiles that Derek can feel building.

Unwrapping his fingers from around Stiles’ neck Derek’s free hand now joins the other. Pushing past Stiles’ cock, Derek heads lower, pushing the restrictive denim out of the way he finds Stiles balls are surprisingly smooth and  suddenly Derek has the urge to roll each one between his fingers.

“Oh god…” Stiles gasp’s as Derek does just that. His boy – because _yeah_ , that’s exactly how he sees Stiles – obviously likes the action.

“Do that again,” Stiles says as if on cue.

Derek doesn’t hesitate. His fingers march on dragging up and down. He can feel Stiles is getting close, the hitch in his breathing, the way his back is arching away from Derek and yet trying to get closer at the same time.

“You can come.” Derek says gently into Stiles’ ear.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”


End file.
